


Not My Forte

by jesuisherve



Category: Archer (Cartoon)
Genre: Awkward Dates, Boyfriends, Drinking, Fluff and Angst, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, M/M, Mild Smut, krayger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 19:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1359832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesuisherve/pseuds/jesuisherve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Out for a drink together, Ray is nervous about spending time alone with Krieger. He doesn't know what to feel, but he does know that he's had too many beers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not My Forte

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I could say this is mine, but it isn't! A friend wrote it for me and is letting me post this for her. Goddamn I love this fic tho.

The last of Ray’s beer goes down and he wishes he could say it goes smooth but _ugh,_ it really does _not_. He winds up gulping what feels like a yeast-flavoured golf ball in his throat because he swallows wrong, and spends the next few seconds recovering with tears pushing at his eyes, trying not to look stupid. It’s easy cause the bar is busy. He’s one of the only people there _not_ accompanied by a chortling band of coworkers (which makes him easy to overlook) and he’s skulking in a booth in the back corner, fully aware that he’s skulking. Goddamn keg beer always does’m in; something off about the flavour that means he doesn’t want it in his mouth for longer than like, two seconds. But they don’t have any bottled Corona so he’s having to resort to whatever’s on tap… and three pints in it still _sucks ass_.

But he’s gonna have to pull himself together because eventually Krieger’s gonna –

He’s here, Ray can dimly see him over by the door, and thank _Christ_ almighty the man had the presence of mind to take his lab coat off before entering. Of course, it’s still _here_ , he’s just got it slung over his arm but… little victories.

He looks good in a button down and tie, though.

And really distinguished, like, almost surprisingly.

Ray forces himself to sit up straighter in his seat; he’s been slumping. The vinyl squeaks a little under his butt. Krieger, still looking around, finally makes eye contact – and that look snaps onto his face, the one where his eyes practically _shine_ , like that time they watched _Godzilla_ and _Little Pet Shop of Horrors_ and _Swamp Thing_ at Ray’s house and Krieger was hunched towards the television screen the whole time, popcorn between his fingers frozen halfway towards his mouth. Or when Krieger’s got something in his lab that’s pulsing and/or bleeding and/or thrumming with biomechanical add-ons and/or all of the above.

Or when… well, okay, so he makes the _look_ at a lot of things, but having it directed at _him –_ in response to _seeing Ray_ – well, it’s hard not to slump back down into the seat or leap up and greet him properly or _something_ , y’know? Like there’s jitters in his legs and he’s not sure if they’re from circuitry that needs adjustment or if it’s just cause he’s as nervous as the first time he got to shoot a rifle. It was at a tin can balanced on a fencepost; he could swear it was the sound of his _heart_ pinging in that moment when the rock-salt connected, the same way it’s doing now as Krieger slides into the booth across from him.

“Sorry I’m late!” He’s saying. “There was a… thing. That came up in the lab. As I was leaving. And, you know, dumpster distribution patterns are really tricky when you’ve gotta get in the legwork-”

Ray holds up a hand. “I don’t wanna know. No. Trust me I don’t. Honestly, don’t, I don’t care why you’re late, especially if it involves dumpsters.”

“Oh, good, cause otherwise we’d be dealing with… sensitive information for such a public space.”

He’s leaning into the table with his fingers steepled in front of him and only the upper half of his face visible, gaze shifting back and forth almost comedically. He looks absurdly similar to a mad scientist in one of those World War II movies, and Ray snorts a laugh that tastes like beer. In return, Krieger grins. The waitress comes up, grabbing Ray’s empty mug.

“Can I get you boys anything?”

Ray forgot about this part; the part where him and Krieger interacted for the first time with someone else, someone who wasn’t a fellow ISIS agent… alone. _Together_. And he feels hot around the collar, certain that the next thing he says will be a dead giveaway (I mean, he’s already flaming as it is, like no fucking mistake _there_ , but you’ve gotta draw a line in the sand somewhere, right?). And she’s cocking her hip and one eyebrow is starting to arch upwards that little bit like _oh God she knows_ , but Krieger is flashing her a smile and just says, “I’ll grab a scotch on the rocks.”

“You got it. Another beer?”

“Huh? Oh, no, thanks, I think I’m good for now. Maybe just a w-water? And some menus?”

Double dukes, he almost kept his voice steady there. She’s nodding and sashaying away though, and Krieger is back to surveying him over his linked-together fingers, like nothing’s happened.

Ray’s starting to feel self-conscious.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. Just happy to see you.”

 

* * *

 

Ray lied to himself, the dirty sinner. He said he wasn’t gonna drink anymore shitty ass keg beer from a goddamn hose and that’s exactly what he did while he and Krieger sat there in the bar, and now he’s buzzed if not strictly speaking _drunk_ and it’s warm in the tip of his nose and in high points on his cheekbones. The burger Ray ate is heavy in his gurgling stomach, feeling like a sodden lump of bread dough.

“I could fix that,” Krieger says suddenly.

“Wha?”

“You’re weaving; I could recalibrate your legs to fix that.”

“Krieger- I’ve been _drinking_.”

“Your point? I’ve got remote control equipment in my van, it’s just down the block-”

“I’m _fine_.” Ray consciously tries to straighten up and walk more steadily, but he can feel his feet weaving under him in braids and arcs that he doesn’t quite have control over. And then he laughs. “D’you… d’you know how great it is I get to wobble around at all? On _foot_?”

“Uh… nope?”

“It… is… _magnificent_!” Ray spins on one heel and tries to do a jig, but loses his balance and pitches forward. His stomach lurches in opposition to his body and the ground leaps up and he yelps –

“Whoa!” Krieger catches him over his arm, like the coat he’d had when Ray first saw him walk into the bar. And his other hand is steady and warm on the small of Ray’s back as he helps him upright. “T-take it easy.”

“Right. Right.” Ray realizes that even though he’s standing, now, even though he’s not tripping flat on his face, Krieger’s still got one hand on his arm. “Did I ever even say thank you properly?”

“I think- yeah! Yep yep yep!”

“I’m gonna haveta again.”

That sparks something back in Krieger’s eyes but he’s the one who breaks the silence first. “… let’s get outta downtown first, kay?”

Ray mutters, “Thank _Christ_ I’m the only one drinking.”

“Alcohol? Mostly.”

“ _Mostly_?”

They start shambling down the sidewalk again – well, Ray shambles, Krieger mostly just walks with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“On a full stomach, alternated with water… what, didn’t you notice?”

“ _No_.”

He’d been thinking about other things.

 

* * *

 

Ray’s leaning his head against the window to watch the city flash by. If he flicks his eyes leftward he sees Krieger: thumbs tapping the steering wheel and lips moving soundless, rhythmic. Probably a Rush song. His head jigs from side to side on his neck until he has to shoulder check.

Back to the van window and the lights outside. Amber and gold and white in a blur that makes him feel queasy all over again. Why the hell had he drunk so much?

Because it was the first… proper… _ugh- **date** _ that he’s been on in years. Because they weren’t calling it that, but that’s what it was, and thinking about giving voice to that fact made Ray feel like gagging a little. Okay a lot. Because despite himself, despite the fact that this had started when Krieger blurted “Have sex with me” and Ray said, “sure, why the hell not” because hey, you regain sensation in your lower half and the person who made it happen wants to do the dirty, it’d be kinda rude as hell not to say yes, right? Besides, weren’t they both getting something out of it? That made it mostly okay? Was it a bad thing to be something the other person wanted in the moment? Except for, newsflash, Ray’d also never expected to – weeks later, mind you – start _feeling_ things. What happened to club sex and partying and… well, besides getting _older_. Besides losing his legs. Besides getting them back and feeling, well, _good_ around Krieger.

That’s another reason he’d gotten drunk. Because it was Krieger in the driver’s seat taking them back to Ray’s place (Ray still refused to step foot into Krieger’s, there were some things that just took it _too far_ ).

Because it was Krieger.

Mostly because it was Krieger.

“You can be the captain, I will draw the chart, hmm mmm hmhmhmm…”

Krieger keeps humming in the driver’s seat and Ray just closes his eyes, feeling the city outside roll by, feeling his stomach roil inside him. Gold on the inside of his eyelids because you can feel light even when you’re not looking right at it.

 

* * *

 

When they pull up in Ray’s empty driveway he keeps his eyes closed for a minute. He imagines Krieger wavering for a minute before… bingo.

He clears his throat before touching Ray’s shoulder. “Uh, we’re here.”

“Mmm, _perfect_.” Ray stretches before looking over casually. “Come inside?”

He’s trying to sound casual but he’s got a twisted wet-towel feeling in his chest and his heart is thudding liquidly. It gives him a twinge – he can’t place the emotion specifically – when Krieger’s response is just to turn the key and say, “Absolutely!”

They aren’t even two steps in the front door before Ray makes himself say, “You wanna-?”

“Well I was hoping-”

“You can stay the night, like, if you want-”

“Oh good!” And like there was no other invitation Krieger needed he’s pushing Ray up against the nearest wall, both of them stumbling over the shoes Ray’s got arranged in front of the door until they brace against something solid. And then Ray’s gasping into Krieger’s mouth – the man’s a _really good kisser_ – and when he bites the German’s lower lip Krieger flat out moans and whoop, there’s Ray, he’s going going _gone_.

They careen around the front hallway for a bit, avoiding the glass case where Ray keeps all his Olympics memorabilia, and if they knock a picture off the wall who cares? The frame doesn’t break and Ray thinks somewhere at the back of his bewildered, addled mind that he’ll pick it up in the morning. In the meantime he’s preoccupied by tugging Krieger’s hair out of its carefully gelled shape, feeling the man’s fingers digging in at his hipbones like _yes yes I know that’s not the most grip you’ve got c’mon_ and all the while Krieger’s mouth, hot and insistently moving against his.

Proof that all nerve function is _completely_ restored: when Krieger reaches down between Ray’s legs and _squeezes_.

“ _FUCK!”_ Ray yells, his head jerking back against the wall with a crack and instantly Krieger’s hands are up, fluttering anxiously around Ray’s temples, his skull.

“ _Jesus,_ are you okay?”

“I _will_ be once you get your hands back _on_ me,” Ray growls, and grabs Krieger by the tie, pulling him in for another kiss. And yeah, he’s okay, he’s seeing stars for the first time in a long time.

 

* * *

 

“God _damn_.”

He’s already said that, like, five times in the last five minutes of post-coital bliss but it’s the most accurate summation of his feelings that he can manage.

“That was okay?”

“Krieger honey, I’m gonna feel that in the morning. So yeah, a bit more than okay.”

“Oh. Good! I don’t really have a gauge for this thing.”

He’s sweaty, and probably bruised a little in certain areas, and sober, and completely fucked out. And Ray doesn’t give a _shit_. Blissfully he quips, “What, sleeping with men?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Well, here’re some tips and pointers: if you’ve got a former preacher blaspheming every second breath, you’re doing a damn good job. Also that thing you did with your mouth? Yeah, do that again. _Lots_ more.”

The look Krieger’s got – studious, intent, and almost painfully earnest – makes Ray feel all _warm_ and _gooey_ and stuff. “Gotcha.”

It’s about then that Ray takes a good look at Krieger; really scans him up and down. He’s lying on his back, covers rumpled beneath him, with his knee up and hands folded across his chest. The flaccid penis between his legs is endearing, somehow. He’s already discarded the condom in the bedside trash can and now he’s looking up at the ceiling, this little smile at one end of his mouth and his hair in shameless disarray.

            Suddenly the feeling that’s been plaguing Ray all evening – the one that’s flitted from stomach to heart to head and lower – hits full force. What’s worse is Ray thinks he _recognizes_ it, and that… that scares the shit out of him. He props himself up on one elbow and takes a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I gotta ask you something… what are we?”

Krieger seems almost startled. “Umm… well, biologically speaking we’re primarily carbon-based life forms of the species _homo sapiens-”_

“That is _definitely_ not what I meant! I mean what are we as a… a thing!”

“I’m… not sure I follow…”

Now Ray’s gone from nervous to exasperated to _furious,_ and he thinks the transition is giving him whiplash – his head throbs.

“Do I need to spell it out for you?!”

“Sure, but unless I’m gonna be looking it up in a dictionary I don’t see how that’s gonna help…”

“For the love of _GOD_ , Krieger!”

Krieger winces.

“We just had mind-blowingly fantastic sex and you _still_ can’t contextualize what I’m trying to ask you?”

“I know, I know, it’s not my thing! I’m… I’m sorry.”

That brings Ray up short and for an instant all he can do is gape like a fish while Krieger turns his face away and rubs at his forehead with one hand. “I’m not the best at reading into things,” Krieger continues quietly. “English is like, my third language but that’s not an excuse, I just don’t… _get_ figurative language sometimes. Es ist nicht meine Stärke.”

“I… I’m sorry.” Ray manages.

“Naw, don’t bother, you’re not the only one.” Krieger looks back and flashes a small grin, a little crookedly. “Malory’s like, a _kajillion_ times scarier when I mess things up. Also it’s like, two in the morning, so… tired, I get that.”

God, Ray feels like such a _dick_. “I’m just…” He shifts, feeling the sheets against his legs, a dull ache throbbing in his brain that he knows is gonna get worse whenever he wakes up. “I’m not a mind reader, so… I feel a little lost as to what you’re thinking. A _little_ direction on what this… thing… we’ve got going on is… would be _stellar_ , actually. I mean we’ve been having sex for, what, a month?”

“More like four and a half weeks, but I take your point.”

“So like a month. And we’ve never actually _talked_ about what it means.”

One of Krieger’s eyebrows lifts. “Why didn’t you say so?”

At that Ray gets another sharp pang of anger, masking what he knows is fear and frustration and… “I’ve been trying-!”

Krieger lifts his hands in surrender. “I know, I know. Sorry.” He scratches at his head. “So… it’d make you feel more comfortable if we put a name on it?”

“…kinda?” (On the inside he’s yelling yes, _yes_ )

Krieger pauses, brow crinkling for a moment, before saying without a trace of hesitancy, “You wanna be boyfriends?”

Ray’s heart leaps. “Oh my _GOD,_ it’s like I’m in college all over again!”

“And?”

He almost wishes he could say there was a struggle, but instead he just feels… happy. “… Yeah. Boyfriends is good. I mean, we don’t have to tell anyone at ISIS – not now, not yet, but I just… I _really_ like you and…”

Krieger stretches his hand out. “Boyfriends then. My first one, I guess… _weird._ But cool. Still, also weird. For me. You know.”

Ray takes a breath. Takes Krieger’s hand, shakes it, feeling giddy despite how absurd it seems, lying naked on his own bed next to this bizarre, slightly terrifying person who somehow has become his- “Boyfriend.”

And then Ray laughs.

Krieger follows suit.

**Author's Note:**

> the German Krieger says translates to "not my forte"


End file.
